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father poem

quando os mar-ventos perfuraram nossos solitudes
talvez
não se aflija que sobre
eu sobre-tinha preparado o evento
aflija-se não para o invisível
trançado e tecido
o cheiro do levantou-se assim falso, os espinhos assim verdadeiros
o que nós fará agora
quem é o corredor nos céus
duas fileiras dos repolhos

 



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